


How F*cking Romantic

by KanarandTarkaleanTea



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, holosuites; unrequited?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7798639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KanarandTarkaleanTea/pseuds/KanarandTarkaleanTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Work inspired by the Magnetic Field's 69 Love Songs. No claim made, no money paid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How F*cking Romantic

"How Fucking Romantic"

_How fucking romantic; all the stars are out,_  
twinkling twinkling twinkling and fluttering about.  
What a tacky sunset. What a vulgar moon.  
Play another charming Rogers and Hart tune  
How fucking romantic. Must we really waltz?  
Drag another cliché howling from the vaults.  
Love you obviously, like you really care,  
even though you treat me like a dancing bear.  
Toss your bear a goldfish as he cycles by.  
Don't forget to feed your bear or it'll die 

“Computer, begin program BashirBeta5”

The cubic grid of the holosuite shimmered and shifted in that uncomfortable way it did when a person entered before the setting had been generated. Not one to indulge in holosuite escapism often, the sensation was not one that Garak was used to, and he stretched a smile across his face to cover his discomfort.

Julian Bashir looked at him expectantly with those big hazel eyes that Garak found himself regrettably susceptible to. “Well, what do you think?” His voice was buoyant and eager, trying so hard to garner approval.

They were standing in one of those strange, open-air structures that the good doctor had told him before was called a “gazebo,” and Garak thought the word sounded adequately ridiculous for such a non-protective shelter. The imaginary sun was already setting behind a picturesque mountain backdrop with a moon hovering on the other end of the sky, appearing freakishly large and golden in its proximity to the simulated horizon. What he assumed to be Terran flowers grew on nearby bushes and he could smell their artificial sweetness. There was a sustained droning, surging, clicking noise which Garak assumed to be insects native to Earth; a susurrus that was quickly beginning to grate on his nerves.

Garak acted as though he was trying to hide his annoyance, but allowed just enough impatience through to present as long-suffering. “I suppose the setting is pleasant enough; the light isn’t too bright and the scent of the flora is mostly inoffensive. The temperature is a bit cold for my personal taste, though.”

Julian sidled up and startled him by slipping an arm around his shoulders, looking at him conspiratorially. Garak fought the urge to melt into the unexpected embrace. “But that’s just it, Garak. You invite your date here, and when they get chilly, it gives you an excuse to increase physical contact.”

“Increased physical contact” had been exactly what he’d longed for from Julian Bashir for years now, but he’d resigned himself to the reality of the situation. This very frustrating exercise was evidence enough that he’d never get what he most wanted from the doctor.

He gave an exaggerated eye roll to cover his wistfulness. “I suppose I can see the merits of such a strategy, but it’s been my observation that cold temperatures inhibit the libido of most humanoid species, particularly those of the female persuasion.”

Julian Bashir huffed an impatient sigh under the holographic interpretation of a dusky sunset, letting his arm fall from around Garak’s shoulders. The tailor immediately regretted its loss on a number of levels. “Come on, Garak. I know how you feel about romance and sentimentality, but I really would appreciate it if you at least tried to understand.”

Not for the first time, Garak marveled at the lengths to which he went to please this tiresome human. “My dear,” he began, trying his best to sound patient, “I advised you that I wouldn’t be the best audience for this type of… display. Surely Lieutenant Dax would be better able to give you advice on how to alter your holprograms to appeal more to your lady friends? Even Chief O’Brien would be able to give you more suitable guidance. While he might not be the audience you’re attempting to romance, at least you two share a similar cultural heritage. And he did manage to somehow convince his charming wife to marry him.”

Julian sighed. “It’s just… I thought that since we’d recently discussed the tropes of romantic literature across cultures that you might like to actually see what humans considered romantic.”

The man was so innocent. So sweet. Wearing his heart on his sleeve where any person with ill intent could damage it. Garak remembered a time when he could have easily used such softness to his advantage. Even now he knew that he could think of the exact stimulus to torture the human. Instinctively knew the buttons to push to illicit the responses he most desired.

It would have been so easy.

Yet, after his foray into the Gamma Quadrant with Odo, Garak knew that he was no longer the enthusiastic interrogator he had once been. He no longer derived joy from inflicting misery onto others, nor did he wish to force Julian Bashir into doing anything he didn’t really want to do. Any such coercive methods would negate any momentary pleasure.

No, he would maintain his benign “plain and simple tailor” routine, even if it did mean never getting to taste the delights of the younger man.

He laid a hand on Julian’s shoulder at a level where even Cardassian society would have accepted it as platonic; where ridges ended and nerves dulled. For his beloved doctor, he would endure even giving tips on how to woo the many females that fell into his arms, all while not allowing his true feelings to show. “You’re right, of course, doctor.” He cast his eyes around again, trying to observe impartially and dispassionately. “Upon further reflection, I can see the appeal of such a setting, though I believe gentle music playing in the background might enhance the experience for your dates more than the current background noises. After all, I seem to remember that quite a lot of human dancing is very intimate… a perfect lead in for “increased physical contact” as you put it.” He raised his eye ridges with just a hint of lasciviousness. The expression worked to dissolve the doctor’s morose expression and instead lit up with a smile.

“Yes, that’s an excellent suggestion. Thank you, Garak.”

He tipped his head. “Of course, my dear. I am, as always, at your service.”

**Author's Note:**

> In-beta'd. Apologies for typos!


End file.
